This Immortal Heart: A Novel of Aphrodite(44)

The door swings open again, and all of us are jolted, staring at it as though Hephaestus might miraculously have returned.

Almost as unlikely, it’s Ares. And a familiar black-winged figure stalks in behind him, her dreadful eyes aglow with gleeful light.

“I saw the storm above Olympus,” Ares says. He’s looking only at me. “Eris said something terrible was happening.”

“I could feel it,” she rasps, hunger straining her voice. “Greater than our war.”

“You left a war to come to Mount Olympus?” Zeus snaps. “Of your own accord? When before have you ever been interested in what’s happening here?”

Across the table, I see Apollo’s eyes flick from Ares to me and back again. “You were worried?” he asks Ares, leaning forwards. “About one of us?”

I turn my head, looking away from Ares. In different circumstances, his presence would feel like flames under my skin. But I’m frozen still from the horror of having watched Hephaestus be struck down, a cold dread strangling my heart.

Zeus snorts.

“The anger drew us here,” Eris says. “The violence. The chasm opening up.” She quivers, her voice crooning. “A split between the Olympian gods.”

Zeus glares at her. “There’s no split,” he says. “The Olympian gods are here. All the gods who are loyal to me are present, except for Artemis. I’ll call her from her forests and tell her the same as I say to the rest of you.” His gaze runs across us all, cold and commanding. “Hephaestus is exiled.”

“So he’s alive?” I blurt out.

“Barely.” The crown on Zeus’ head glints in the torchlight. “He’s imprisoned within the volcano of Sicily. His temples will be torn down and his worshippers will abandon him. An exiled god is swiftly forgotten by the mortal world. Anyone who tries to help him will suffer the same fate.”

I release a breath. So Hephaestus isn’t shattered into fragments, like my father was. Nor is he chained in Tartarus like Zeus’ father. “You’re leaving him there?” I ask, fearful for a moment that he plans another punishment.

“We all are.” There’s no question that he means it. “No one goes near that volcano.”

Eris chuckles softly in the quiet.

“Ares, take your throne,” Zeus orders. “Eris, leave now. You’re not welcome on this mountain.” He glares at his son. “Don’t bring her here again.”

She doesn’t respond to Zeus at all, only looks at Ares, who jerks his head toward the door. She smiles and nods, sweeping from the room as Ares takes his seat.

Zeus resumes his speech. “Hera sought to destroy Semele. From jealousy and bitterness at the affection I showed her.”

Hera’s face is determinedly blank.

“In disguise, she convinced Semele to make me swear an oath.” Zeus gives her a look of utter hatred. “I swore on the Styx that I would grant any wish she made.” He pauses.

I cast my gaze down so that he doesn’t see the contempt in my eyes. He is a fool. No god can break an oath they swear on the Styx, and no one except a lustful Zeus would be so idiotic as to let a mortal bind them with that vow.

“Hera’s plan succeeded.” He fumes for a moment, then continues. “What Semele wished for was the very thing that would cause her death, and I was forced to make it happen. She wanted to see me in my Olympian form—not dimmed for mortal eyes. Of course, the moment I revealed myself, she burned to ashes.”

I notice Demeter giving a little shudder of distaste, mirroring my feelings exactly. It’s very like Hera to connive such cruelty. And I knew, didn’t I, that it would be the princess who suffered if the affair came to light?

I should have acted. I shouldn’t have let myself forget. It’s Zeus who is the monster, but I could have stopped this.

“But my wife was too late,” Zeus says, and Hera can’t hide the panic that whisks across her face before she masters herself again. “Semele is dead, but the baby she carried in her womb survives. My son.”

Another of Zeus’ bastards, as if the mortal realm wasn’t already littered with them. It hardly seems worthy of an announcement.

“He is,” Zeus says, “no ordinary child.” The barely contained fury is dropping away, a calm replacing it and, underneath that, a hint of exultation. “No ordinary child at all.” He lingers on the words, imbuing them with a meaning I can’t divine.

I glance at Athena and then at Apollo, Goddess of Wisdom and God of Prophecy, but if they can tell what he’s talking about, they aren’t letting it show in their faces.

“You’ll see what I mean,” Zeus says, “when you meet him.” And he smiles.



* * *



—

The council is dismissed with no further explanation. Zeus finally takes his throne, satisfied, and Poseidon, Apollo and Hermes stay with him. I walk out among the other gods, taking care not to look in Ares’ direction.

Eris lingers in the courtyard, having ignored Zeus’ decree. She strides toward Ares, enjoyment suffusing her features.

“Go,” I hear him tell her.

She looks up at him, her dark hair tumbling down her back, her black wings quivering. “I will. But I wanted to know,” she says, “what will you do about your brother?”